3. Cell Interior and Function #2
Upon my death, my shares in GENETIX INC.
shall be transferred not to my biological children, but to my first grandchild, regardless of gender or national origin.
The shares shall not be held in trust by any Kristiansen, Aaberg, or Loretto relation until such time as the grandchild reaches the age of majority.
I read it twice, noting that Aaberg was the maiden name of Oskar Kristiansen’s first wife and Loretto was the surname of his second wife. Finished, I set the paper down.
“Whose will is this?” I asked, but I already knew.
“My father’s,” Andreas said.
I tried to swallow around the tightness in my throat. “Oskar is still alive?”
He nodded.
“That’s a shame. Do your brothers know about this part of his will?”
“No.”
Blinking against a sudden rush of tears, I huffed again, then snorted, hoping to dispel the stupid, tiresome liquid emotion. “What does any of this have to do with me or you wanting to marry me?”
I needed to get out of here. Feelings were clawing at my lungs, heart, and throat, which was not a sensation I enjoyed. Ever.
He met my gaze, unflinching. “Those shares should go to you. Or your mother.”
I felt my throat tighten further. “My mother died when I was fourteen, Andreas. Bit late for inheritance games.”
He tilted his head, and for a second, I thought he might say something normal, like “I’m sorry” or “That must have been hard.”
Instead, he went for the jugular. “I believe my father—and, in part, my brothers—they are the reason your father died. I believe either my father or Tobias defrauded the company and framed your father for it. Henrik helped them cover it up. That stress led to your father’s sudden death.”
The words hung in the air like a chemical spill, but they also helped me, centered me.
When the old familiar numbness threatened, I embraced it.
Breathing deeply, I looked down at my hands, then at the table, then at the page of the will, then back at Andreas, who was the picture of unruffled patience.
I swallowed without difficulty. “You think I don’t know that?” I sounded so detached, so calm. What a relief.
He frowned at my response, another micro expression. “Samantha, I need to make it right for you.”
“And marrying me is your solution?” Admittedly, I was only half listening to his words now, and I was definitely not in a state of mind to scrutinize them.
He nodded, like he was agreeing to a flavor of yogurt, not a life-altering commitment.
“My father is very sick. He will not have a chance to change this again. If we marry, the shares pass to our child. You will control them. Don’t you see?
It’s built into the language. My father wants his future daughter-in-law to control the shares before the child comes of age, to ensure either me or my brothers only marry someone trustworthy, ideally someone we’re in love with.
” Andreas paused here, dipping his head and watching me as though to gauge my reaction to his words.
When I continued meeting his searching stare blankly, he sighed and added, “No need for me to sign anything over since I am a Kristiansen. The shares, and the company, will be yours to control from the start.”
We gazed at each other silently for so long that the little foam hearts floating above our coffees began to blur. I tried to imagine any scenario in which this was a normal, sane offer, and came up empty.
“You want to have a baby with me,” I said, slow and deliberate, “so you can keep Genetix out of the hands of your brothers.”
“Not for me.” Andreas’s tone sounded gentle, so at odds with his cold beauty. “For you. For your family. Your father built that company. The patents, the technology, those were his.”
I pushed the photocopy back across the table and lied, “I don’t care about Genetix. Or your father’s dirty money. Or any of this.”
The intensity of his already-intimidating stare multiplied.
“If you walk away, the shares will eventually go to one of my half brothers. Henrik, or Tobias. They will not hesitate to get married and have a child in order to control the company, or try to. You remember what they were like. They have not changed.”
I did remember. Henrik liked to punch Andreas and call it wrestling. Tobias once superglued my hair to a piano bench. I had not kept in touch. Thus, I didn’t know what havoc they’d wreaked since growing to maturity. To label them both bullies would be a charitable understatement.
Andreas must have perceived my indecision, because he leaned forward, voice dipping low.
“You deserve your father’s company. Not them, not me, not my father.
You’re getting a PhD in genetics, just like your parents.
There has to be a reason for that. I’m offering you a chance to take back what should be yours by birthright. Why say no?”
I shook my head, suddenly exhausted, and not just from lack of sleep.
Yes, I would do almost anything to screw over his family and I’d gladly watch them suffer, but I wasn’t completely morally bankrupt. I wouldn’t involve an innocent—my own child—as a means to an end. That was some next-level evil strategic bullshit.
“I’m not bringing a child into the world just to spite your family and take control of a company. I would never do that.”
He reached across the table and placed his hand on mine, his big palm completely dwarfing my fingers, and I flinched at the feel of it, yet was unable to pull away.
The contact was warm and electric. It paralyzed me.
A tingling heat coursed up my arm and my breath turned to fire in my lungs.
My body’s unexpected reaction to his touch threatened to incinerate the blanket of numbness I’d been clinging to, and that was unacceptable.
“You don’t ever have to see my family.” He squeezed my fingers in a way that felt insistent and familiar. Comfortable and yet also alarming. “I would not let them near you. Trust me, Samantha.”
“That’s not the point,” I croaked out, because—maybe it made me irrational—but I did trust Andreas.
Careful to keep my voice just above a whisper, I said, “The mere idea of conceiving a child out of spite, especially with you, is loathsome”—I didn’t miss how he winced, or how his eyes dropped to the table, but I wasn’t finished—“to me. How could I do that? How could you even suggest it?”
His shoulders rose and fell, and his attention remained on the table as he added, “You don’t have to see me after, if you prefer. We can arrange everything in writing.”
Now I flinched, his words felt like a slap.
I found I had to swallow several times to gain control of my voice before I could trust myself to speak.
“By ‘after,’ you mean after we are married and conceive a baby. Isn’t that right?
Are you telling me you want to have a child with me and then disappear from my life, from our baby’s life?
” While I spoke, I glanced at his hand covering mine, then at him, then back at his hand. I needed to pull away.
Any minute now.
Andreas’s eyes cut to mine. He stared at me, giving none of his thoughts away.
Or maybe he was giving his thoughts away.
Perhaps he was broadcasting them loudly, but I couldn’t read them, or him.
I felt too many things I didn’t usually allow myself to feel.
And I was sleep-deprived. I couldn’t think.
Finally, heart hammering, I pulled my hand back. I felt the loss of his touch and our contact in a way I dared not analyze.
“Exactly,” I said, deciding to assume his silent stare meant that he would not, in fact, feel perfectly at peace with never knowing his own kid. Cupping my cappuccino, I didn’t lift it for a sip. My hands felt unsteady. “I appreciate the offer to conspire to bring down your family, but no.”
Face unreadable, his gaze shifted to some point over my shoulder. “This can be the beginning of the conversation. We don’t have to decide anything right now.”
Exhaling a humorless laugh, I set the cup down with a clatter and stood up, shoving my chair back with more force than necessary. It was well past time for me to leave.
“No. This isn’t the beginning of anything.”
He also stood. “Samantha?—”
“You need to let it go.” I looked around for my belongings, anywhere but at him, and wrapped my scarf around my neck even though my chest felt hot and achy.
“I cannot let you go, or let this go. The company should be yours.”
I shrugged, still not looking at him. “Yeah, and people shouldn’t be starving or unhoused in first world countries, marine animals shouldn’t be choking on plastic, babies shouldn’t be dying of preventable diseases, but neither you nor I can fix the inherent unfairness of life.”
Andreas walked around the table and stood in front of me, his hands fisted at his sides. I could feel his restraint as though it were a tangible thing.
“Please, if I find another way, may I call you? May I?—”
Yanking on my coat, I cut him off. “Sure. If you find a way that doesn’t involve us getting married or having a baby together, be my guest.”
“Wait.” He grabbed and held my wrist, pausing until I—unenthusiastically—gave him my eyes. For once, his didn’t look bored. They were wide and imploring. “If either Tobias or Henrik contact you, you must let me know. You have my number. Call me.”
No. No way. I had no desire to relive this level of emotional upheaval. Not ever.
Disentangling myself from his grip, I shook my head again, firmer this time. “You won’t be hearing from me.”
“Sama—”
“Please. Leave me alone. Okay?” I hated that my voice wavered and cracked, but I seemed to no longer have control over my vocal cords.
Thankfully, Andreas made no move to grab me again. He didn’t say another word. But I felt his eyes on me as I gathered my things, walked around him, and fled the café. My heart and lungs hurt, as if they were encased in rubber bands.
Feelings are THE WORST!
Outside, the cold felt bracing. I stood on the sidewalk, eyes stinging, lungs burning, and realized that I had never, in all my years of therapy, been this profoundly unsettled by a single conversation.
I walked back to my department building.
My hands shook, so I stuffed them in the pockets of my jacket.
My stomach felt sour, and my mouth tasted bitter. And I had a headache.
I tried to convince myself sleep deprivation was the culprit, but even I didn’t buy it.